Wounds Run Deep

11/06/2016

by Trensk Mikakka

"scars are areas of fibrous tissue (fibrosis) that replace normal skin after injury. A scar results from the biological process of wound repair in the skin and other tissues of the body. Thus, scarring is a natural part of the healing process. With the exception of very minor ledions, every wound (e.g., after accident, disease, or surgery) results in some degree of scarring.

However, some scars run deeper.

Trensk,
for probably the fifth time today, sighed. It was only lunchtime, for
God's sake. As he stood in the kitchen, laboring over the preparations
for a chicken breast, rice, and pea combo for three (Trensk, being a big
guy, needed the first and third portion). Putting the finishing
seasonings on the chicken, his eyes flicked up over the counter-top and
bar towards the living room, flitting over the redhead who would be
stealing the second portion. Elizabeth. She sat there on the
couch, cross-legged, her small frame easily fitting on the seat as she
cradled a book in her pale fingers. The Essential Physics Primer,
by Doctor Vera Gengod. One of his books that she probably stole while
he was out. She was definitely like her mother in that regard, a curious
soul, inquisitive to a fault, at times.

Trensk carefully
transferred the chicken breasts over to a large pan, already heated on
the stove. A sizzling filled the air, and an aromatic scent of herbs and
cooking meat wafted over his nose. Perfect. He tended to the meal for a
few seconds, making sure everything was just right, before
setting down his spatula. He sighed again, shifting over to the side and
leaning on the counter, mulling over something in his head.

"It's
your birthday soon, isn't it, Lizza?" He said, looking up at Elizabeth.
She nodded, not even daring to quit reading her book. "11th. This
month." she replied, her voice barely heard over the sound of the
cooking chicken. "Hm. Soon. Anything you want to do?" Trensk replied,
adjusting his chicken. "No clue." Elizabeth answered, still not looking
at him.

Trensk shook his head, flipping over the chicken to cook
the other side. "Rather'd do something for you, y'know? 17th birthday
ain't something to just ignore."

She shrugged.

He sighed,
adjusting his chicken a bit, before turning off the stove and carefully
transferred over the chicken onto two separate plates. One for her, two
for him. He dosed out some rice, string beans, and a dab of butter to
the side, before picking them up and moving into the living room. His
careful tread led to no losses of sustenance, and he set Elizabeth's
plate in front of her before moving to his own seat,(his super-comfy
recliner), and sitting down, setting his own plate on the coffee table
in front of him.

Reluctantly, Elizabeth dog-eared her place in
the book and set it down, turning to face her meal. Trensk noticed,
however, that she watched him out of the corner of her eye as he
shrugged off his normal jacket, exposing his arms, a normal right arm,
and a heavily scarred left, one that had probably seen better days, same
with the disfigured fighter squadron tattoo that covered his left
shoulder and bicep.

They ate in silence, as per normal. He
didn't know what to say, and she had nothing to say. So they ate, the
only sounds the clinking of silverware on plates as they ate.

Trensk
finished first, as was normal, him used to wolfing down meals from his
days in the Navy and being a busy combat capsuleer. She ate more
delicately, eating with almost a laser precision to subconsciously get
everything off her plate. Trensk reclined back, yawning slightly,
scratching his left should idly. Elizabeth finished a few minutes after
him, silently setting down her plate and again going cross-legged on the
couch.

There was a silence. One that was soon broken.

"Trensk."

"Yeah, Lizza?"

"Your arm. What happened?"

Trensk
visibly paused, unsure of how to answer. He didn't really expect her to
ask. Not now, at least. And he didn't know how to appropriately say it.

"It was, uh...Combat. Before I became a capsuleer. It ain't just my arm, either.""Didn't answer my question."

Trensk
sighed, rubbing the left side of his torso subconsciously. "Back when I
was your age, I lied. I joined the military, way too young. Being the
son of a Colonel, they let me into officer training without a problem. I
became a fighter pilot. Flew fighter-bombers sometimes...but I was
mainly a fighter pilot."Elizabeth immediately perked up, turning
to face him, her face showing that singular, intense concentration
normally reserved for books.

"I flew a lot. I was good. Probably
too good. Too cocky, too. Heck, I was probably no older than 18 when it
happened. I had connections. My uncle, my mother, my deceased father,
all allowed me to get fast-tracked through a lot of sh-...stuff in the
military. We were out in Innia at the time, I was assigned to a
supercarrier, one of our finest. I enjoyed it there. Everyone did. We
were annihilating every raid that came our way."

Lizza nodded, her fists clenching a bit, her eyes darting, trying to memorize every word, every expression, every movement.

"The
Gallente must've gotten tired of us. They sent 3 carriers and a horde
of cruisers at us. At the time, it felt like the world was being torn
apart around us. Me and my wingman deployed. We shot. We killed. We
killed and killed and killed until I didn't even have a single missile
left, a single rail gun cartridge around. We needed to go back to the
super, so that's what we did. Then she called out those words..."Goddamn
it, he's on my six."

He sighed, rubbing his face, his wide chest rising and falling, slowly, once, before he continued.

"To
this day, I don't know what I was thinking. I just reacted. I knew
where that bastard was. I immediately hit my reverse thrusters, and
banked right. I slammed right into a Firblog. My dragonfly's wing
pierced the engines, and my cockpit slammed into the center of his
fighter, my other wing shearing off due to g-forces and crushing the
enemy's cockpit. I didn't know this until after the fact, of course. I
was just in pain. So much pain. It was cold, too, unbearably cold, which
was strange for the first few seconds, when everything was on fire. But
I knew it wouldn't matter soon. I was pierced through the left side of
my torso, and my left leg, oblique, arm, all of it was burned and
shredded like Sebiestor Cheese. Full of holes, lacerations. To this day,
I can still feel nothing on the entire left side of my body, excluding
the left side of my face. Extensive nerve damage."

Trensk let out
a shaky breath, leaning forward in his recliner, resting his arms on
his knees. Elizabeth reached out, a tiny hand resting on his. Comfort,
albeit how little of an effort was put into it, was enough. So he
continued.

"I sat there for 6 hours, until the battle was over. I
didn't know it, of course, I wasn't even conscious. They found me,
though, barely alive. I spent months in a hospital. Then they figured
out I could become a capsuleer. Then here I am, years later." He
finished, leaning back in his chair, just staring off at the far wall.Elizabeth leaned back herself, engrossed in the story, and her own thoughts. "Trensk."